


I've got that fire inside of me (too)

by rickstheraven



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickstheraven/pseuds/rickstheraven
Summary: a re-write of the 2x08 fireplace scene.





	I've got that fire inside of me (too)

She collapses next to Archie, breathing heavily as she feels the soft cologne-smelling mattress underneath her absorbing her sweat soaked back. She closes her eyes as his arms wraps around her waist, her muscles sore due the hours of relished steamy sex and shivers suddenly, the spasm due to the unfamiliarity of cuddling post-sex, or maybe it was the aftershocks of the earth-quaking orgasms she had when the red head was buried inside her.

Archie chuckles, looking straight up at his bedroom ceiling, “One place down, many more to go.”

She laughs as she finds her way, nuzzling her face into the spot she loves beneath his jaw, somewhere in his neck, and peppers him with light kisses. And also to hide the stupid grin on her face.

Ever since the mysterious reaper, self titled killer, the Black Hood, annouced his grim judgement on the god forsaken town, Veronica and Archie had sex non stop since, where ever they could. She doesn’t know why, though. Maybe it was the need to piss of the psychomaniac murdurer more, declining his declaration at Riverdale’s sinning through carnal defiance and unbridled sex. Or maybe it was because she can’t stand the look in her boyfriend’s eyes as he heard the gloomy news.

Apparently, the Black Hood’s first appearance was shooting Fred Andrew, Archie’s father, on the morning after she had her first sex with him (Archie obviously). Hiram Lodge, her father did come across her mind as a suspect, while she pondered furiously in the silent hospital, holding her boyfriend’s bloody hands, scheming ways she could kill and torture the person who ruined her boy’s day, and everyone’s in the town. Maybe it was her father, or someone he hired who had been under the roughly cut masked, shooting Fred Andrew in the stomach due to the discovery of Hermione having had an affair with him, or maybe because he found out the son of the person who temporarily banged his wife, was also banging his daughter now. _First my wife, now my daughter? Fuck you, Andrews! Take a bullet!_ All of the conspiracy theories in her mind disappeared when she went back to Archie’s house for a change of his clothes, ending up having sex with him again in the steamy shower, her back pinned against the wet tiles, her legs lift off the ground as he thrusted desperately into her. Really, checked off one of the things she wanted to do in her wildest dreams; hot, wet, shower sex.

And Archie’s suffering from the event of the Black Hood’s attempt at his father’s life ever since, PTSD, she knows it, but doesn’t mention or talk about it to him due to the fear of his declination. She just watches him carefully, really carefully, observing his eyes for any sign of panic whenever he walks into Pop’s or any mention of the Black Hood reaches his hear. But he seemed better, she realizes, as anger only takes place in his eyes whenever the Black Hood conversation takes place. And she had no right to take it from him, she knew. But his attention, she could.

It started off as an attempt to distract him from roaming the streets outside with a baseball bat in hands ( _against a gun, really, Archie?_ ), or perhaps rousing the Red Circle, a group of muscular jocks from the Riverdale High football team who all seem to have an excess of testosterone production. But little did she know, did she, that she was quite enjoying this more and more every time as she comes home late from a sex-induced getaway with the lover boy, and as her father looked at her disapprovingly for breaking curfew. Feels like a dream, and what a way of rebelling as a teenager, she had thought.

“Well, where else next?” she asks, tilting her face up to kiss him. His hands cup her face as he kisses her back gently. She pulls away to list all the places they’ve had had needy, quick & desperate/slow, passionate & tender sex, “We did it in the cupboard under the stairs Jughead’s so gracefully offered it to us back at school , in the bathroom at Pop’s, in your garage, in my bedroom and in yours. ” She goes back to kissing him, mouth opening against his.

He groans as he breaks the kiss, “I have an idea.”

“What is it? Anything off your to-do list?” she teases, her finger running over his muscles, which clenches suddenly at her touch.

He smiles, “I want to do it in front of a fireplace. You have one in your living room, right?”

“Yes, we do. And ever the romantics, Archiekins”, she says, and her voice turns sultry at the pet name.

He grins at her deviously and pushes himself over, pinning her with his weight. She groans aloud as his hardened length grinds against her mound.

“I’ll show you romance”, he growls into her mouth, and it catches her by surprise. He has never been this verbally confident, or more accurately, never was the one to tease her during sex, and it catches her so off guard she could swear she came with just his words.

***

_My parents are gone x_

She texts Archie with fumbling fingers, a weird nervousness settling at the bottom of her stomach. She doesn’t know why, they’ve done this multiple times already, but she’s been feeling nervous lately. Was it because of the idea of _rebelling_? Or was it because she’s starting to fall, perhaps, fall in love?

She gets up and starts to arrange the pillows on the living room couch frantically, even though they were at a comfortable position. Just something to do with fingers. Maybe she should turn on the TV as a background noise as well? No, the fireplace is what matters, as her eyes land on the only source of light in the dark living room, the flickering glare reflecting off the walls. She turns around as the elevator dings, and Archie comes out, ever hot with the way his tight sweatshirt hangs around him. Without a word, she walks up to meet halfway, grabbing his face to kiss him. He deepens the kiss by pushing his tongue inside her mouth, the glistening feeling that lingers over the seam of her lips sending goosebumps through every where on her skin, and her knees suddenly turns to butter as her core aches desperately. She realizes she’s clinging on to him to prevent herself from falling. Falling on to the floor. Not falling in love. Or maybe that as well. Or not maybe, for sure. Or hell yes, she is falling for him hard.

She breaks the steamy make out session, “Hi.”

“Hi”, he replies, his voice breathy.

She smiles and grins at him deviously, and pulls him to the fireplace. She sits down on the fur rug she replaced the plain carpet with, pulling him down with her. Technically, the couch was not as close to the fireplace as the rug was, not enough to feel the warmth of the flames, but damn, she could even be having sex outside in the snow and won’t even feel cold due to the heat they’re both radiating.

Archie takes off his sweat shirt and discards it aside, and she feels all the oxygen in lungs disappears as he looks right into her eyes, the roaring fires reflected in his soft brown eyes. The flickering light throws all the shapes of his muscles into a deeper accent, the shadows of the bumps intensified, all in a clear glint of orange light, and his hairs a fiery shade of crimson. He looks impossibly so _hot_ and _sexy,_ as she stares at him embarrassingly open-mouthed, her core throbbing from the desire. He nearly laughs at her face, but he doesn’t.  He pulls her close and kisses, soft and gentle. Both her hand shoots up to cup his face, as she tries to play down to his level, but she can’t. The lust flaring inside of her only makes her kiss him more feverishly, her tongue crashing into his mouth as he gives her the access, and he realizes she wants to be in control this time. She straddles herself in his laps, attacking him with such ferocious kisses that it pushes him back onto the floor, and his hands slowly travelling down to her backside as he swipes his tongue inside her mouth, eliciting a moan from her throat.

Archie has to be dreaming, really, to be the one to make Veronica moan like that, drawing the needy voices from her. Her kiss feels exuberant, the way she moves her tongue against his, like they were in some classical ballet dancing along to Beethoven, or a choreography to Shape of You, he doesn’t know. But it feels good. So fucking good that it leaves him probably not the same without it. He groans as she starts to grind against him, a clear indication that she’s needy, and fuck, isn’t he as well. He’s so hard that it hurts, no room for nature to expand as the shaft throbs painfully in his jeans. His hands travel absently to her to the zipper of her black skirt, and he unzips it completely, trying to pull away the fabric without having her to move her position, because he likes the pressure she’s pressing him with. She breaks the kiss, sitting up on his lap and it startles him for a moment (not the sudden addition of pressure on his boner, of course) , until he sees her hand slowly takes her skirt off, and again, travels slowly to the hem of her black sweater, his heart beating insanely fast . His travel over her as she deliberately slowly pulls it off, as her intricate lacy back lingerie, the kind she likes to wear, is exposed to his eyes, catching his breath.

“Ronnie”, he whispers, barely able to control the lust in his voice.

“Archie”, her voice sultry, and his length twitches underneath her. She smiles and unbuttons the clasps of her bra and takes it off to reveal her perky breasts. His hands uncontrollably travels upwards to grab them with his fingers, to relish the softness yet the firm tits, circling them with his thumbs. She moans and puts more pressure on him. He can’t help but moan as well, “Ronnie, I need you, now please.”

She chuckles lightly, “As you say, Archiekins.”

Her fumbling fingers unbuttons his jeans and she drags it off him, her finger digging into the hem of his boxers and pulls it along with the jeans, springing free his throbbing erection, before climbing back onto of him. He moans as she grinds on him, the softness of fabric and the wetness he feels through it drives him crazy, he wonders what he will feel like once he’s inside her.

And it’s like as if she reads his face, she pushes the lacy underwear aside and grabs his length guiding him into her in one fluid, mind-blowing movement as his skin touches the inside of her walls, the tightness and the warmth all familiar to him, but it’s the wetness, every time, that drives him insane.

He surely is fucking dreaming, watching the raven-haired princess rocking her body against his, her shiny hair falling around her face like a glittering curtain from some Disney cartoon, her breasts bouncing off her chest like some erotic hypnotization that leaves him in another glorious realm. Her curves are thrown into a glaring detail by the flickering flames, but it was nothing compared to glittering fire she had in her eyes, full of lust and desire, and it just drives him closer to the edge. He groans as she lets out a string of incoherent pleasure-curses and -appraises at the same time.

“Oh, fuck, Archie”, she moans as her walls clenches around his cock, and it’s so fucking good that he sits up with her still straddling and grinding against him, lowly moaning from the aftershocks of her orgasm. He covers her pink tits with his mouth, his tongue torturously lipping them causing her to pull his face up for a kiss. Her tongue slides into his mouth easily, and she groans into his mouth as he pushes them over, pinning her with his weight.

It doesn’t feel like she’s suffocating, considering his size. In fact, it might be, but she likes it, having him on top of her, having him more confident and dominating. Her skin is on fire where his chests presses onto her breasts, the lingering feeling of his lips on her tits causing her to shiver under him. He _literally_ rips her underwear, and he looks at her apologetically for a moment before understanding the look in her eyes. She _wanted_ him to, and even though Chantelles were generally expensive, she doesn’t care because she already knew when she was buying them, it was practically for him to rip it hungrily off. She pulls him down to her, kissing him deeply, and moans into his mouth as he pushes inside her, her walls expanding to accommodate his size again. He starts to thrust in relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing around the room along with the breathy moans and encouraging groans, animalistic yet a carnal delight all the same.

“Don’t stop, Archie, don’t”, she whispers into his ear, panting loudly.

“I don’t plan to”, he growls back, his voice octaves lower, and she knew he was getting close.

“Oh, babe, you feel so good”, she pants, knowing full well it would drive him further, and so would it for her as well, as he picks up his pace, pounding faster into her core, the slapping sound getting louder and both their breathing shallower. He suddenly angles himself and then continues to thrust into her, this time grinding on her clit as well, adding to all the otherworldly feeling she’s experiencing.

“You’re incredible, Ronnie”, he moans into her neck and his hands that were gripping her arms tighten. She knows he’s falling over the edge as his relentless thrusting comes to a sudden stop, his shoulders shaking as he comes into her, and the hot spurts and his pulsating cock inside her pushes her over the edge as well, falling into an abyss of an ethereal, earth-shattering, mind-blowingly fucking good orgasm.

“Oh, fuck, Archie”, she wails as she comes with him, her orgasm sending shockwaves throughout every fiber of her being, her sensory nerves exploding from the build-up and overload of an erotically-pleasing climax.

She wipes her forehead as Archie pulls out slowly, looking at his cock still dripping slightly from all the liquids that helped them reached their orgasms. All of it drives her so hot again and she just wants to jump on top of him as he lays down next to her and resume their nightly work out, licking the beads of sweat right off his chest and beg him it pound her even though they were pretty fucking breathless. But she doesn’t as she realizes something else.

“That was fucking incredible”, he says, his voice breathy.

She hadn’t fall over the edge into the heavenly orgasm only. She fell into trouble as well.

Trouble for falling in love with him. Trouble for not knowing how to ever say ‘I love you’ by really meaning it.

And isn’t she screwed by the way he looks at her, the glinting in his eyes, reflecting the bright flickering fireplace.

**Author's Note:**

> "you said you've always wanted to do it in front of the fireplace" popped into my mind randomly in the middle of the night while i was thinking about quantum mechanisms. Really, wtf?  
> I'm pretty sure someone's already re-written this, but I can't not do anything about it so here's my take on the fireplace scene.  
> find me on tumblr @theravenhairedprince


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